A Dog Bred for War
by lil.redd.riding.hood
Summary: Ulveye, an alpha female werewolf with a knack for finding herself in odd predicaments has found herself in another. Face to face with the unholiest of Holy Hunters and the Father of Vampires, she must unravel what each one means, and how she fits into the war that their overseeing organizations are waging. Anderson, Alucard, and an original character are the focus of this story.
1. It's All in the Swing

In a time before the war broke out, between the world of the living and the realm of the undead, there was a moment of turbulent peace. An organization based in London and its predominantly protestant beliefs had been sanctioned by the ruling hand of the United Kingdom to eliminate the beasts that walk in the night. Conversely, sanctioned by the Pope himself, a rival Catholic organization had also staked its claim on keeping the peace for the unknowing humans. These two powers, both ultimately seeking the same outcome, were locked in a tender treaty after many skirmishes for land and jurisdiction. But, the peace has been upturned. Vatican Section XIII: Iscariot has broken the treaty and sent its strongest single unit against the Protestant organization, Hellsing. The story you are about to read is the recount of the outcome of this breach of trust.

Walking along the sidewalk of the late night London, Ulveye basked in the ethereal glow of the pregnant moon. Its gaze made her heart swell, the adrenaline coursing through her and heightening her senses. The rush was great, she felt alive. The moon blessed her with power in an ungodly way tonight, drawing her predatory self up from the depths of her soul. She eyed the scattering of people walking home in the night, sneering at the idea that they might just be prey in a few minutes. Ulveye peered around, assuring herself that the humans had their eyes averted. She approached the target building, a towering plot of land overshadowed by the immense architecture of the old manor. "Hellsing…" she whispered, like a prayer.

A small hole in the gate had let her into the compound without alerting the guards many a time before. She climbed through once more, sure that no one had seen her, only to be pulled out and shoved against the ground. "What the ever living fuck," she growled, her Irish accent faintly noticeable in her voice.

"I could say the same thing to you, you unholy swine," her attacker crooned viciously with a voice smooth as velvet, littered with strong pulls of Scottish. She peered up at the man towering above her. The human was colossal, looming over her with at least a head and a half over her meager five and a half feet. His luminous eyes were as green as the land he came from, and they peered down at her with cold calculation. He leaned back and stared into her ocean blue eyes, tawny blonde spikes of hair falling down over his forehead. "Well?" he pushed, tapping her chin with the point of a bayonet.

Immediately overtaken by instinct, she pulled her face away from the sting of the blade. The damned thing was blessed! "Don't insult me, priest," she spat, defiantly glaring up at him. "What do you want?" She clearly had the advantage over him, even from this position. He was only human, even if he was equipped with a strong holy blade. She played along for the moment, letting him believe he was victorious over her.

He narrowed his eyes down at her and frowned. "Don't make me do something I'll regret." He pressed the blessed sword near again. "Now, you're going to get me into this place, or I'll slice you from neck to navel without a second thought. You're nothing but a dirty heathen beast. "

She spit into his face. "How's that for help?" she hissed. The jab was halfhearted, if she could be truthful to herself. Something about the human before her pushed her off balance. Was it his scent? No. The scent of wild grass and pine was calming, but not unsettling. Could it be the stubble that framed his jaw, and the large scar on his cheek? She had always had a soft spot for the Irish and Scottish, and he was certainly on the top of her scale. But no, that wasn't it either. She couldn't place what exactly had set her senses ablaze about him, but she would definitely find out.

The man sneered, mindlessly wiping the spittle from his cheek. "You're a fiery lass, you are. But one way or another, you're going to help me."

"Like hell," she muttered, seizing the moment and pushing him off with a hefty shove. "You might have a damned holy blade, but I'm stronger than you."

"You're right," he confirmed, throwing the blade in her direction with a sweep of his arm. "I do have holy blades." The lengthy bayonet slid past her face, parting her cheek ever so slightly before it hit its mark and pinned her to the stone wall. She winced away from the silver edged knife, a deep growl rumbling out from between clenched teeth. "You will show me in or I'll make you."

"Fuck you, you damned priest." She glared directly at him, eyes glowing yellow for a moment before she slipped him an impromptu finger.

A sudden wave of his cloak and he was upon her once more, fed up with her childish games. His sword met her throat, just centimeters away from her jugular. "Don't toy with me, lass, I won't take "no" for an answer." His thick Scottish accent made her blood boil. Whether from anger or arousal was yet to be determined. She began to sweat, the adrenaline from this brisk ordeal making her suddenly too hot for the hooded sweater that now pinned her to the wall.

She pushed her hands to his chest and forced him to step back. It was obvious that on an instinctual level, he knew that he affected her somehow. "Fine, fine," she relinquished. She ripped herself away from the wall and discarded the torn sweater. With a metaphoric flick of a switch, she turned into her dominant self. The aura oozing from her pores exuded the air of an alpha as she bore down on the priest before her. She knew of course that humans didn't have an aura strong enough to see, nor could they see the aura of others. But, when that thought occurred to her, her eyes let her see the haze around the man garbed in gray.

What the hell was this? She took a step back. That was all the opening he needed before he threw her over the tall stone fence and followed. "Lead the way in or follow the path to death sooner, you rotten dog of hell," he threatened, kicking her as she stood up. She rolled away and bounced to her feet, grazing her ribs where his heavy foot hit her. She peeled her lips back in a snarl and started her way around the compound.

She had been here many times before, always sneaking in and "relieving" the organization of some of their stock of synthetic blood. This time was supposed to be no different, but apparently karma had decided after all her shit that it was time to give her a dose of her own kind of reality. Around the back of the building were training grounds for the organization's soldiers, but just before that, there was a breach in the wall of the mansion. It was small, too small for the priest surely, but just big enough for a nimble creature of her size.

"You'll have to excuse me, sir," she snapped, "but I'm late for dinner." She gave him the slip and dove into the hole. From inside she watched him struggle to get in, to no avail. "Fucker." Dismissing the priest, she turned and came face to face with blackness. Ulveye had been in here plenty of times, and the hall had never been this dark. Something was amiss. She took a tentative step forward and stopped, stiff as a board. Eyes from inside the darkness as countless as the stars all stared back at her. Red… They were all red. The same red eyes that haunted her first memory after birth.

The werewolf took a hesitant breath and felt her legs crumple beneath her, the heavy darkness of unconsciousness swallowing her up selfishly.


	2. There Are Strings Attached

The presence of Ulveye was always blatant each time she snuck in. But what fun would it be, killing her the first time around? This time would be different. She'd made it in, and that was far enough. This time, she wasn't alone, and that put a tick in his jaw. Alucard swiftly knocked her out and took note of her scent. It had changed somehow since the last time she was here. _Perhaps it's the Catholic Dog who has got her up in arms,_ he thought to himself, storing the information for later exploitation.

* * *

With an enthusiastic jolt, Ulveye woke up, roughly smacking her head on something. She couldn't sit up she realized, slowly grasping her surroundings in the darkness. "What the seven hells?" she hissed, feeling the ceiling just inches above her nose. "Aye! Get me the fuck outta 'ere!" For fucks sake, it was a coffin! Deep in the pit of her stomach, a growl was forming. The she-wolf had no patience for this kind of joke. With all her might she fought against the heavy oak of the lid, but it would not budge. _Well this is just great_.

The sound of a click made her breath catch in her throat. What could it have been? She listened intently, but after minutes passed by she resolved to it being nothing. Another strong kick to the wood, and it bowed, splintering under the stress of her strength. Ulveye sniffed the air, catching the distinct trails of one female vampire, a male immortal, and an unrealistic amount of humans, only one of them a woman. Her eyes darted around the surrounding room, the large wooden door being the only way out. Somehow she didn't feel comfortable using it, but there was no other choice. She grimaced and pressed her hand to the door, inching it open and peering out into the hall. "Where the hell is this? Never been down this way before..." she whispered to herself, slipping through the opening and sauntering down the corridor.

Ulveye wandered endlessly in the labyrinthine depths of the basement. She was hopelessly, irrevocably lost. From one door to another, they all seemed to lead to the same kind of place; a stone cellar-turned-bedroom. It was like the whole workforce lived here. It seemed like hours, but finally a door appeared before her, different than the others. All steel, a small window at the top with bars and a red star seal painted in, she sniffed it closely. Blood. She rested a hand on the door, fingers closely lain across the eye of the star. "Who would be locked in such a place?" she whispered inquisitively, sneaking a peek into the window and only finding the same darkness that swallowed her.

She retreated from it immediately, growling a warning to the black depths. Ulveye froze in place so suddenly that her muscles screamed. Something was behind her that she couldn't sense until now. _The Immortal, _her mind sneered. She snarled, but made no attempt to retreat. Her eyes never left the door, committing to memory the intricate runes and sigils. It was a sealing circle of some kind, she knew, but what kind? Ulveye would have to research it at a later time. "What do you want, leech?" she growled.

Her challenge was met by laughter; a deep chortle that threw rich baritone guffaws up and down the stone halls. The manic way it sauntered into her ears put her on edge, like dancing on the sharpened side of a blade. A blessed blade came to mind then, and Ulveye touched her cheek reflexively. _Asshole,_ her mind labeled him.

* * *

One by one, the ghouls fell at her feet. Swift as any trained vampire, Vix weaved through the lazy beasts, shredding them from head to hamstring. She toiled in the crowd of undead, lashing out with sharpened claws and doing fatal damage to the rotting servants. The last body fell and the lithe woman looked on. She was pleased with her work, though unfulfilled in the lack of resistance. Plucking the radio from her belt she dialed in and phoned headquarters. "This is Alpha-Team," she started, "all targets have been disposed of. Further orders requested, over."

_"Well done Ms. Vix. No problems to report at the moment. Return to base. Over and out,"_ came Walter's voice from the radio.

"Understood. Over and out," she replied, turning off the microphone and sighing heavily. _Well damn, I was hoping for more than this. I'm too riled to go back,_ Vix thought to herself as she slipped out of the building onto its roof. A quick visual search of the area revealed good news. There were no humans above or below to witness her leave or the bloodstained clothes she wore. Her chin rose to the sky, eyes on the heaviness of the full moon. Its rays felt cleansing and it helped to calm her down. "Better get back and debrief," she muttered, running a nimble hand through her silky auburn hair. Vix gave herself no time to breathe, bursting into a sprint along the roof-tops, headlong towards Hellsing headquarters.

The guards were more than welcoming to Vix as she skid to a halt in front of them. "Hey boys," she said, waving at them with a smile. She didn't stop as she waved, leaping from her place on the ground and shimmying up the stone fence. With a soft thud she landed on the other side, tensing as the air touched her. Something was… Off. She looked around, but nothing seemed out of place. Vix shrugged and made her way up to Integra's office. Walter opened the door just as she approached. "The gun you issued me won't stop stalling while I'm trying to shoot," she said simply, handing him the gun. She was straight to the point as ever.

_"I'm sorry to hear that Ms. Vix. I shall have to look into the problem,"_ he replied with a flourished bow.

"Thanks. I'll be in my room if you need me." She turned on her heel and took the stairs down to her room. _A shower first would be nice, though,_ she thought, looking down at her stained uniform. As she neared her bedroom she noticed Seras, looking to be in shambles from her own assignment. "Rough night?" she asked the police girl.

_"You dont know the half of it Vix,"_ Seras groaned, pushing into her room for the day.

Vix laughed and mimicked Seras, retreating from the oncoming dawn. There was a package of blood waiting for her, the same as every night. It would have to wait until after a shower. She couldn't stand another minute of the stink of ghoul. She grabbed some clean clothes and headed towards the bathroom.

She hurriedly stripped herself of the battle-soaked clothing and slipped into the stone shower. The water felt amazing after a long night's work. It took her a full minute of garbled shower singing for her to realize that she was no longer alone in her room. She narrowed her eyes at the door that divided her bathroom from her bedroom. Alucard's aura oozed over everything. She glowered at him from the safety of her shower. What in seven hells was he thinking? There was such a thing as privacy. "One sec, damn it," she spat, shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a towel. Stepping from the threshold of her bathroom, she ruffled her hair to relieve some of the wetness. Vix locked her gaze on the immortal lounging on her bed. "Is there something you want, Alucard?"


	3. Would You Like a Side with That?

The grin on Alucard's face was full of sin. His lips twisted his face into the predatory expression of a hunter who had just cornered his pray. **"I have a small task for you, Vix,"** he began, lazily dancing a bullet between his gloved fingers. **"The Iscariot Headsman is sniffing about outside and I would delight in having him over for dinner. But, I seem to have misplaced my guard dog and I can't well have guests without my pet beside me. You'll entertain our guest until I've taken care of my own problem, yes?"** He didn't give her time to respond. One minute he was leaning on her coffin and the next, he was gone. A shroud of mystery he was. The fucker couldn't even wait properly. Strange but simple, Vix didn't think too much on her next assignment. She dressed in a pair of loose jeans and a black t-shirt, too hastened to return to uniform, and made her way to the surface where her enemy waited.

It didn't take long for Vix to locate her target. She'd seen the dossier on him and the laundry list of kills he'd made. Human, ghoul, vampire, werewolf… It made no difference to this beast. To top it off, the Catholic had the nerve to be a regenerator. Leave it to Iscariot to make a man into a demon. _Don't let the Priest catch you saying that,_ Alucard snickered through her mind. Vix narrowed her eyes, as if it would make a difference. She ignored the childish musings of her master and focused. The advantage was hers; she was upwind and behind him. **"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Judas Priest," **she said coolly, sidestepping his vicious swing. **"Alucard would thrive in your company, but he is predisposed. May I have this dance?"**

* * *

"**Admiring my prison, wolf?**"the same voice drawled, closer to Ulveye this time. She tensed. From out of the shadows he waltzed, his every motion an ethereal, graceful effort. His eyes, deeper and more blood-soaked than the depths of Hell itself, bore abysmal holes into her person as she turned to face him. He was upon her then, so close that she could smell his breath. It stank of blood, fear, and death. Just as she had imagined. But something else was there, beyond his jagged smile. The smell that was comforting. Familiar, and yet intangible and impossible to place. Her eyes widened with recognition.

* * *

An exaggerated whirl brought Anderson face to face with another vampire. Since when did Alucard turn every lost lass he got his filthy heathen paws on? The Sword Dancer loomed over her with menace and animalistic fury. He was quick. Too quick this time. A flash of silver and he had a blade at her neck, threateningly close to slicing flesh. **"Judas Priest my hindquarters, lass," **he spat,** "I'm not 'ere for you. Kindly run off an' die."** With that, he diverted his free hand to pinning the vampire girl in place. Another bayonet slipped into his grip and he drove it home into the meat of her shoulder. For lack of a better explanation in his actions, he made a retreat and forced himself through the hole in which his previous target had fled. Bricks caved under his strength and he was in with little more than a few scratches.

Vix screeched a wounded roar as the skin around her injury blistered and smoked. The burn was hideously painful and just as grotesque, but she didn't have the time to complain. One hand on the handle of the sword, she ripped it out and cursed a wild string of profanities. Leaving her wound to be tended later, the woman dove straight into the hole, noting its existence for later repair. Alucard, Anderson, and an unfamiliar aura all permeated the darkness before her. _What's this now? He said guard dog, but I thought he meant Seras, not an actual mutt! _Vix grimaced. She hated the smell of werewolves.

* * *

"**Oh ho! So you remember me?" **Alucard gasped, feigning surprise. His smile was sickening and primal. Ulveye fidgeted under his gaze, fearful of the knowledge she couldn't quite grasp. In her head she knew him, but every time she grasped the memory in hand, it slipped through her fingers like sand. **"No? Hmmm… What a shame." **The Hellsing Dog frowned, forlorn memories flashing over his ageless face for a fraction of a second. But, something else immediately grabbed his attention and he was back to his mischievous self.

**"Things are about to get very… interesting,"** he observed, though Ulveye had no idea what he meant. The damned vampire hadn't given her a chance to respond. He grabbed her suddenly, dancing them in a circle and tossing her into the open hall.

"**What the –"** she exclaimed, cut short by the impact of what felt like a brick wall.

"**Ever the ironic wolf, Ulveye," **the immortal japed.

It was Anderson who had not mindfully watched where the fuck he was going. He rose from his tumble with the dog and came eye to eye with Alucard and a lively Vix, whom had narrowly missed the collision herself. Ulveye herself had risen from her spot on the floor, and proceeded to punch him in the side. It did little more than piss him off. **"Aye, git, mutt,"** he said, dismissing her. But she would have none of it. With a swift kick to the back of the knees, he was brought down to her level, restrained by a double arm bar. He was NOT on top of his game, he'd found.

An impatient, insulted Ulveye then assumed it best to headbutt him in the back of his head, though for what purpose it served her was anyone's guess. She stood behind him, keeping his immensely powerful arms at bay by sheer luck. Even in his kneeling position, Anderson was still a whopping five and a half feet, equal to Ulveye's modest stature. He could easily toss her off him, but he didn't. Why? For the sole purpose of keeping her where he could get to her late, she assumed. It didn't matter. Ulveye wasn't that easy to kill.

Remaining in place for the sake of keeping all her enemies in front of her, Ulveye glared at the immortal and his companion. All she wanted was some fucking blood. None of this would have happened if the damned priest would have just politely fucked off.

* * *

"**Sorry I couldn't keep him longer, he got the jump on me," **Vix conceded, looking towards Ulveye and Anderson disapprovingly. **"Had I known you had this mutt, though, I'd have just had you sick her on the fucker. Am I free to go? I need some sleep."**

"**Oh no, Vix. Sleep can wait. You won't want to miss this." **The grin on Alucard's face said it all. Somebody would die here.


	4. Devil's Dance and Werewolves Prance

It took little more effort than swatting a fly; Anderson flexed and broke Ulveye's grip on his arms, rising from his knees to loom over them all with staggering confidence. **"I came here for you, you heathen dog,"** he growled at Alucard, shifting into a fighting stance. With one full swing of his arm, five bayonets soared the short distance between them and pummeled the immortal. He remained standing, but his body shook with the sheer force of the impacting blades.

Through grit teeth, Ulveye snarled. This was _not_ supposed to be happening. None of this was meant to happen! **"Do you have a death wish, asshole?" **she yelled from behind the priest. He was an abnormal human, she gave him that much, but to attack an immortal with nothing more than some blades and his wits? He was a dead man walking, now. What did she care? Turning tail and abandoning all hope for food, she simply wanted _out_ of this hell hole. _You're not too far off with that accusation,_ the undead hummed, his rich baritone voice bouncing inside her skull. Was there any such thing as privacy?

* * *

She was ready for the attack this time. Slipping right out of the trajectory, Vix caught the sight of her master being affectionately turned into Swiss cheese. The image caused her to hesitate and it cost her. A blessed sword sliced through her arm and left a nasty wound. _Now I'll have to get this treated, too!_ She glowered at the priest with venom in her eyes. He would pay for this. Her master lay in a heap of blood, ichor, and burning flesh beside her, and she was wounded in more than one place. She would choke the life out of him, make no mistake.

_Don't be stupid, Vix,_ Alucard murmured within her mind. He wasn't dead? These blades did massive damage and he was as calm as could be! She obliged her growing curiosity and retreated down the hall, out of the way of the antics that she was sure to see.

"**Come now, Judas Priest! The night is young, let's have some fun!"** Alucard bellowed, his manic cackles filling the halls. Anderson gave no leave in his attacks, but the flesh that was Alucard's had already begun its regeneration. Through the efforts of his will, the Duke of the Undead ascended the confines of reality and reformed in the blind-spot of the priest and pinned him in place. The immortal would have none of this half attempt at swordplay. **"You're disappointing me, Anderson. Something on your mind?"**

* * *

The glint in Anderson's eyes was menacing. **"To Hell with you, demon,"** he retorted. Emerald fury blazed over his gaze and he pounced. The vampire was strong, but Anderson was just as powerful. With precision that only a honed warrior could emulate, Anderson repeated his earlier efforts, piercing Alucard in the heart with two more of his blessed blades. He gave no quarter and produced another blade from the billowing folds of his coat, decapitating Alucard and thoroughly slicing his remains in pieces. **"You best stay in the pits of Hell this time, dog,"** he spat. **"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. To the dust we all return, Amen."** With the knowledge that his adversary was dead, Anderson took his leave, right past Vix.

* * *

Even at this distance, Ulveye heard the clash of weapon and stone. The words she vaguely made out were sad. Hidden under the thick Scottish chords, Anderson's voice was forlorn. Would he miss his self-proclaimed nemesis? She thought not. Anderson didn't seem to be the kind of person to feel anything except for hate and faith. _Is there really much of a difference between the two?_ She didn't think so. Preoccupied with her thoughts, Ulveye took a wrong turn and found herself face to face with the butler.

She had met him a couple times before, always just escaping his wiry grip by the fur on her tail, but this time there would be no such luck. **"Uh, hello,"** she mused sheepishly, backing away from him as quickly as she could.

"**Where do you think your going, ma'am?"** Walter grinned, formality ever the grace in his voice. He held a waiter's plate aloft, two place settings atop with packages of thawed blood resting in the center. That was all she wanted. Ulveye hated getting prey that still moved. They were always so unwilling and the stink of fear nauseated her.

"**If you don't mind, I'll take one of those packs of blood and be on my way. No fuss, no mess." **She hoped for her sake that he'd be more apt to avoid confrontation considering the casualty down the hall. But, perhaps he didn't know, after all he _was _human.

"**I was on my way to deliver these to Master Alucard and Miss Seras, but seeing as you're on your way out…"** the smartly dressed butler retrieved one of the blood packets and tossed it her way. **"See that you never come here again, Miss. I will not excuse this transgression, and Miss Integra would have your skin if she knew you were here. Off you go before I change my mind and skin you alive."**

* * *

Vix was appalled. Anderson had shredded her master not once, but twice. This time he had lopped off his head and split him in two. How was she supposed to defend herself against that? Clearly he was just toying with her before because if he had tried, she would be chasing her head down the lawn outside. She'd known Alucard to be an immortal, they all were, but could he really come back from such a grievous slaughter? Somehow, she doubted it.

_You haven't seen an immortal if you think I'd quit so easy,_ he snickered in her head. Of course. Playing possum was the oldest trick in the book, and if the Iscariot Headsman thought him dead, then the organization itself would think so too. _Clever fucker,_ she thought, smug Cheshire grin on her cheeks. She took herself out of the equation for the night and retired away from the altercation.

* * *

Less than pleased with his words, Ulveye caught the bag and turned to make leave. **"Thanks, butler," **she said, **"Oh, and have a good birthday."** The wolf leaped away with that, leaving Walter in shock and awe of the fact a random werewolf knowing his birth date.

_I'll have to inform Miss Integra of a leak in our midst,_ he thought to himself, returning to his duties.

* * *

(Hey there my handful of readers! Sorry for the late update, but I've been distracted with the tenaciousness of real life. This has been my revised story I wrote in high school for my sister and I, and I'm nearing the end of the old work. If you have ideas, I'm all ears. I know I'm going to do something terrible to Anderson, and expand on the history of Ulveye and Alucard, but beyond that I'm blank. I've got one more chapter to write before I lose steam, and I need your help! Comment, rate, and all that jazz. - Redd)


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